War in Iraq Propelling A Massive Migration
Wave Creates Tension Across the Middle East
By Sudarsan Raghavan
Washington Post Foreign Service
Sunday, February 4, 2007
AMMAN, Jordan -- Inside his cold, crumbling apartment, Saad Ali teeters on the fringes of life.
Once a popular singer in his native Baghdad, he is now unemployed. To pay his $45 monthly
rent, he borrows from friends. To bathe, he boils water on a tiny heater. He sleeps on a frayed
mattress, under a tattered blanket.
Outside, Ali, 35, avoids police officers and disguises his Arabic with a Jordanian dialect. He
returns home before 10 p.m. to stay clear of government checkpoints. Like hundreds of
thousands of Iraqi refugees here, he fears being deported. Six months ago, near his home in
Baghdad, two men threatened to kill him. Singing romantic songs, they said, was un-Islamic.
He remembers that day, "Despite all the hardships I face here, it is better than going back to
Baghdad," said Ali, long-faced with a sharp chin, who wore a thick red sweat shirt and rubbed
his hands to keep warm. "They will behead me. What else can I do? I have no choice."
As the fourth year of war nears its end, the Middle East's largest refugee crisis since the
Palestinian exodus from Israel in 1948 is unfolding in a climate of fear, persecution and tragedy.
Nearly 2 million Iraqis -- about 8 percent of the prewar population -- have embarked on a
desperate migration, mostly to Jordan, Syria and Lebanon, according to the U.N. High
Commissioner for Refugees. The refugees include large numbers of doctors, academics and
other professionals vital for Iraq's recovery. Another 1.7 million have been forced to move to
safer towns and villages inside Iraq, and as many as 50,000 Iraqis a month flee their homes, the
U.N. agency said in January.
The rich began trickling out of Iraq as conditions deteriorated under U.N. sanctions in the 1990s,
their flight growing in the aftermath of the 2003 U.S.-led invasion. Now, as the violence
worsens, increasing numbers of poor Iraqis are on the move, aid officials say. To flee, Iraqis sell
their possessions, raid their savings and borrow money from relatives. They ride buses or walk
across terrain riddled with criminals and Sunni insurgents, preferring to risk death over
remaining in Iraq.
The United Nations is struggling to find funding to assist Iraqi refugees. Fewer than 500 have
been resettled in the United States since the invasion. Aid officials and human rights activists say
the United States and other Western nations are focused on reconstructing Iraq while ignoring
the war's human fallout.
"It's probably political," said Janvier de Riedmatten, U.N. refugee agency representative for Iraq,
referring to the reason why the world hasn't helped Iraq's refugees.
"The Iraq story has to be a success story," he said.
For decades, Jordan welcomed refugees. Roughly a third of its 5.9 million residents are
Palestinian refugees. According to the United Nations, 500,000 to 700,000 Iraqi refugees live in
Jordan, but aid officials say the actual number is nearer to 1 million because many Iraqis live
under the radar. Jordan's tolerance has waned, however, since a group of Iraqis bombed three
hotels in November 2005, killing 60 people, according to Iraqis, aid officials and human rights
groups. The government fears that Iraq's mostly Sunni Arab refugees could remain in the country
permanently or become recruits for Iraq's insurgency.
1
Now, the exodus is generating friction and anger across the region, while straining basic services
in already poor countries. Iraqis are blamed for driving up prices and taking away scarce jobs.
Iraq's neighbors worry the new refugees will carry in Iraq's sectarian strife.
"The Jordan government does not want to encourage Iraqis to stay for a long time," said Gaby
Daw, project officer for the Catholic charity Caritas Internationalis, one of the few aid agencies
assisting Iraqi refugees.
Into their new havens, Iraqis are bringing their culture and way of life, gradually reshaping the
face of the Arab world. But the cost of escape is high. Feeding the bitterness of exile is a sense
that outside forces created their plight. Many Iraqis here view the U.S.-led invasion that ousted
President Saddam Hussein as the root of their woes.
"We were promised a kind of heaven on earth," said Rabab Haider, who fled Baghdad last year.
"But we've been given a real hell."
Sad Goodbyes
The road out of Iraq begins on Salhiye Street in Baghdad.
On Jan. 13, knots of Iraqis waited to board 14 buses to Syria. Inside a travel agency, Raghed
Moyed, 23, sat solemnly with her 12-year-old brother, Amar. It had become too dangerous for
her to attend college, so she was heading to Damascus to continue her education. As she sat, her
head bowed, she recalled the previous night, when she bade farewell to her friends.
"It's really sad," said Moyed, her voice cracking as tears slid down her face. "I cried the whole
way from the house to here. I don't want to leave Iraq, but it is hard to stay."
Sameer Humfash, the travel agent, watched her cry. By his estimate, 50 to 60 families were
fleeing each day on the buses lined up outside. Nowadays, Iraqis were heading mostly to Syria,
he said.
"They are not letting Iraqis in at the Jordanian border," interrupted Ahmed Khudair, one of
Humfash's employees.
Humfash makes all his passengers sign waiver forms that read: "I am traveling on my own
responsibility and God is the only one that protects us." On the roads to both Jordan and Syria,
Sunni insurgents have dragged Shiites from buses and executed them. Humfash stays in radio
contact every hour with the bus driver, usually a Syrian. He always asks three questions, he said:
"How is the road?"
"Did they take any passengers?"
"Did they hurt any passengers?"
At the Border
Along the Iraq-Jordan border Jan. 16, a brisk wind howled across the barren landscape. It was
1:45 p.m. Until recently, hundreds of cars and buses filled with Iraqis would have been lined up
to enter Jordan. On this day, there were four vehicles. A Jordanian border security official said
many Iraqis were afraid to travel through Anbar province, one of Iraq's most violent regions.
Abu Hussam al-Khaisy, an Iraqi taxi driver, offered another explanation. The day before he had
brought a family of seven Iraqis to the border, but Jordanian officials, he said, denied them
admission with no explanation.
"They are not giving permission to enter because they are scared about security," said Khaisy at
a restaurant in Ruwayshid, a Jordanian rest stop about 55 miles from the border. In other
2
instances, he said, officials have turned away young Iraqi men who could take jobs away from
Jordanians.
Today, the government is making it increasingly difficult for Iraqis to reside legally in Jordan. It
views Iraqis as temporary visitors, not refugees, and has not sought international assistance.
Human rights activists and U.N. officials have accused Jordan of shutting its border to many
Iraqis fleeing persecution and deporting others.
Nasir Judah, a government spokesman, said Jordan has kept its door open to Iraqis even as they
have become a burden on Jordan's economy and natural resources. In recent years, the influx was
largely unregulated, but now tighter security measures are needed, he said. Iraqis, he added, have
tried to enter Jordan using fake passports and identity cards.
"There are no mass deportations of Iraqis," Judah said. "Otherwise the numbers would be
dwindling, and they are not."
On this day, Khaisy was driving Abu Wisam al-Azzawi, 35, back to Baqubah, a city about 35
miles northeast of Baghdad. Two months ago, members of Azzawi's immediate family were
refused entry into Jordan, even though he owned a car dealership in Amman. Azzawi still
remembers his son, on the Iraq side of the border, pleading through the cellphone: "Daddy, don't
leave us."
Now, he was planning to fetch them from Baqubah and take them to Syria.
"I haven't told my family I am coming back," said Azzawi, before getting into Khaisy's maroon
Caprice Classic in Ruwayshid. "Maybe I am not going to see them."
"Maybe I will get killed on the road."
Seeking Safety, Aid
Outside the restaurant, two sport-utility vehicles passed by, heading to Amman. One, with large
red-checkered bags on its roof, carried Abu Saif al-Ajrami's family. The other vehicle carried
their life's possessions.
The Jordanians let them in after the family waited more than 24 hours at the border. It helped
that Ajrami's father was Jordanian. At night, they arrived in Amman near a place refugees call
Iraq Square, where taxis drop off recent arrivals. Two relatives, whom the family had not seen in
five years, met them. There were hugs and kisses, and praises to God.
"I feel psychologically relieved. You can see it is very safe," said Ajrami, waving his hands at
the cars flowing by. "But I have left my family, friends, my neighbors, my memories back in
Baghdad. The first day there is security, I will go back."
Then he declared he would find a job the next day. "From the border to here, we felt like we had
entered paradise," he said.
Widad Shakur, 53, said that when she arrived in Amman in October, she felt the same way. A
Shiite Muslim, she fled after Sunni extremists threatened to behead her daughter, a teacher. But
Iraq's chaos is never far away. A week ago, Shakur learned that a Sunni family had occupied her
house. Now, she cannot sleep at night.
And she cannot afford to return to Iraq. Her daughter, a saleswoman, earns barely $300 a month,
half of which goes to their rent. "I wish I was a bird and I could fly back to my house," said
Shakur, as tears welled in her eyes.
"Who expected it would turn out like this -- Sunni against Shia?" she continued. "We were like
brothers. Why is this happening?"
3
She has a more pressing problem. Her legs hurt, she said. But she cannot afford a doctor. She
worries that seeking help at a Jordanian hospital might lead to deportation, even though she has a
three-month residency permit.
"I don't know whether we have the right to go to it or not," said Shakur, who wore a black,
sequined head scarf. "I am afraid to go there."
At the Royal Association for Iraq Immigrants, Salah al-Samarai had 28 pink and yellow folders
stacked on his desk. They belonged to Iraqis in need of surgeries.
"I don't know what to do," said Samarai, the head of the nonprofit that helps Iraqis, as visitors
waited outside his door.
In front of him sat Waad Abdul Rahim, a solemn Iraqi professor dressed in a tweed jacket. His
14-year-old daughter, Mina, needed an intestinal operation. It cost $5,000. For the past month
and a half, he has visited Samarai's office.
"I come every day, and then I go back to suffer," Rahim said. "Her life is in danger. The longer it
takes, the more dangerous it is going to be."
Samarai nodded in sympathy and said, "We have four or five more-serious cases."
Most of the organization's funds come from donations, he said. He doesn't blame the Jordanian
government. "It's enough they opened their doors for us to stay here," Samarai said. But he
wished the international community would do more to help.
"Lots of Americans tell us we don't need money: 'You are wealthy.' I even went to the European
Union. They also said, 'You don't need money.' "
A Taste of Baghdad
Rabab Haider and her husband, Ibrahim al-Shawy, live in an elegant, sunlit apartment in
Amman. Along with other middle-class Iraqis, they live in a parallel Iraq. Many of their relatives
and friends are here. Iraq's sectarian divisions rarely enter their lives.
The richest Iraqis can get residency permits by depositing $70,000 in a Jordanian bank, buying
property or investing. Others simply pay a $2 daily fine for expired permits.
"I see more Iraqis here than I do in Baghdad," said Shawy, who travels every few months to Iraq,
where he owns land.
Qaduri, a popular restaurant nearby, was once an institution in Baghdad. Then it was bombed.
Seven months ago, its owners decided to resurrect it in Amman. Now it serves tashreeb, a
traditional Iraqi stew, from midnight to noon, just as it did in Baghdad.
Next door, a sign reads that another restaurant plans to open soon. Its specialty: pacha, the dish
of boiled lamb's head that Iraqis consider a delicacy.
At a recent Iraqi wedding in the upscale Bristol Hotel, an Iraqi singer sang songs and guests
moved to the drumbeats of the jobee, an Iraqi folk dance. In Baghdad, with the car bombs,
checkpoints and kidnappings, large weddings are all but extinct.
"You turned the clock back four years," Um Ammar, a guest who had recently arrived from
Baghdad, told the groom's mother.
The singer began to hum a patriotic Iraqi hymn. In the audience, eyes filled with tears. Others
sobbed.
Moments later, the singer crooned: "Baghdad."
The audience responded: "In my eyes is Heaven."
4
"Baghdad," the singer sang again.
"Is our one and only love," the audience sang. "Baghdad is our sole mother, may God safeguard
you from the evil surrounding you."
On a January afternoon, over cake and coffee in their Amman apartment, Haider and Shawy
spoke of nostalgia, guilt and uncertainty.
"What about the torment?" said Haider, a pleasant, short-haired woman with a faint British
accent. "You being safe and your people in Baghdad are not."
"How long can we keep this?" asked Haider, looking at their plush sofas, the purple vase, the
glass dining table.
Living in Fear
On Jan. 18, a curly-haired artist named Qais Mohammed Ateih sat inside singer Saad Ali's tworoom apartment, which is nestled near a warren of shops and narrow alleys. A third Iraqi refugee,
Razzaq al-Okaeli, 35, joined them. The trio spoke about being like beggars, depending on friends
for meals. Ateih said he knew at least 70 Iraqis who have been deported since 2003.
In the wake of Hussein's execution in December, many Iraqi Shiites say they have been targeted
because of their sect. Jordan, a mostly Sunni nation, is home to many supporters of Hussein, who
was a Sunni and a benefactor of Palestinians.
"Is the government targeting us for being Shiites? No. But from individual policemen, we feel
this," said Ateih, 36. "They say, 'You betrayed Saddam.' "
If they are lucky, Ateih said, they find jobs as day laborers, earning $7 for a 14-hour workday.
But Jordanian employers, they said, often exploit Iraqis. Okaeli said he recently worked for two
months as an air-conditioning repairman; his employer paid him for only 10 days of work.
"They know we cannot complain to the authorities," said Okaeli, a short man with brushed-back
hair and long, trim sideburns. "If we complain, we will get deported."
Ali sat on a worn brown sofa, rubbing his hands, taking in the conversation. He had hoped to
earn enough money to help his parents in Baghdad. Now, when he speaks to them, he never
reveals the truth.
"They are inside Iraq. They should have to worry only about themselves," said Ali, his eyes
lowered at the dusty red carpet. "So I tell them I am fine."
He paused, then glanced at the tiny heater, and said, "I never expected it would be like this."
Special correspondent Yasmin Mousa in Amman contributed to this report.
5
The Lebanese Crisis and Its Impact on Immigrants and Refugees
By Kara Murphy
Migration Policy Institute
September 2006
Residents in Lebanon — citizens and
foreigners — faced a perilous journey to
evacuate the war-torn country and reach safe
havens in Syria and Cyprus this summer. Before
the ceasefire went into effect on August 14, up to
10,000 people arrived at the Syrian border each
day, according to a report from the United
Nations High Commissioner for Refugees
(UNHCR) in early August.
Other people arriving at the Syrian border
included tourists from the Gulf region who were
required to pay to enter Syria, as well as a
number of poor Palestinian refugees who were
rejected.
About 15,000 American citizens (many of
Lebanese origin) were evacuated, as were
thousands of Europeans and Australians.
Runways at Beirut's main airport, major bridges, and roads were destroyed by the Israeli
military in the fight against Hezbollah that began July 12. In major southern cities like Tyre,
infrastructure was so badly damaged that people often were trapped without access to food,
water, electricity, or medical care.
At press time, Lebanon’s total losses amount to an estimated $9.4 billion, according to
Lebanon’s Higher Relief Commission. In cooperation with the Lebanese government and the
United Nations, Sweden hosted an international donor conference on August 31 that brought
together about 60 governments and organizations to discuss humanitarian needs and early
reconstruction efforts in Lebanon.
The plight of Lebanese citizens has received extensive media coverage around the world.
However, another important population has been often left out of the picture: Lebanon's
hundreds of thousands of migrant workers and refugees. Their hardships began well before the
conflict, yet their stories were rarely told in the media.
Estimates of the number of migrants in Lebanon vary widely since no official records are
kept on the migrant population. In the formal economy, it is estimated that foreign workers,
mainly from Sri Lanka and Egypt, make up 30 percent of the official workforce, particularly in
the domestic and service sectors. Refugees, the majority of whom are Palestinian, and asylum
seekers make up about 10 percent of the total Lebanese population of 3.9 million according to
the International Organization for Migration (IOM).
This article investigates the impact of the crisis on several vulnerable groups, including
Lebanese citizens in Syria, internally displaced persons (IDPs), and Lebanon's migrant workers
and refugees. Finally, it highlights the efforts of the Lebanese diaspora to help fellow nationals.
Lebanese in Syria and the Internally Displaced
By the time Lebanon and Israel signed the ceasefire agreement, the number of Lebanese
displaced by the conflict had reached nearly one million. Of those, about 180,000 found refuge
in Syria. Another 500,000 IDPs escaped to mountainous regions of Lebanon, where they were
sheltered in schools or in homes of host families.
6
Throughout the crisis, the Syrian government has emphasized its support for Lebanon.
Political support was also reflected in its general openness to displaced Lebanese arriving in
Syria. In coordination with humanitarian organizations, including UNHCR and the Syrian Arab
Red Crescent, the Syrian government has worked to provide shelter and relief to Lebanese.
Even in poor rural towns, Syrians accepted refugees into their homes and donated what
little food and blankets they owned. Given Syria's limited resources, UNHCR appealed to the
international community in early August for help with relief efforts. UNHCR had received
nearly $11 million (of nearly $19 million sought) as of August 17.
In response, many countries, including Argentina, Bahrain, and others, sent assistance to
Syria in the form of monetary contributions or shipments of supplies. The Turkish government
sent nearly 40 truckloads of humanitarian supplies to assist Lebanese in need.
Soon after the ceasefire announcement, many displaced Lebanese chose to make the
journey home despite fears that they would have nothing to which to return. Because authorities
and agencies are concentrating their relief operations in the hardest-hit towns, people in outlying
areas remain in shelters, awaiting assistance to return home.
Nearly 300,000 Lebanese in Syria and Lebanon are still displaced, Lebanon’s Higher
Relief Commission reported on August 29. They either have no home return to or fear the return
is too dangerous. Their fears are not unfounded: the Higher Relief Commission reported that in
the two weeks after the ceasefire, nearly 60 people, including several children, were injured by
still-active Israeli explosives in southern Lebanon.
Both the displaced and returning populations suffer from a lack of food, medicine and safe
drinking water. Since extreme fuel shortages shut down many hospitals, UNHCR and other aid
agencies are coordinating relief operations to send 100 tons of fuel to southern Lebanon.
Migrant Workers in Lebanon: A Brief Overview
Workers from Sri Lanka, India, Vietnam, the Philippines, Ethiopia, and elsewhere have been
coming to Lebanon since the oil boom of the 1970s. A majority of migrant workers are women, most
of them working in the domestic sector.
The governments of Sri Lanka and the Philippines encouraged emigration for the purpose of
obtaining remittances from workers abroad. No formal agreements existed between Lebanese and
Asian governments to facilitate the movement of migrants. Instead, Lebanese employment agencies
established relationships with Asian agencies, and migrants were recruited based on the demands of
Lebanese employers.
This practice, facilitated by the Lebanese government’s laissez-faire labor-market policy,
continues today.
From the early 1900s until the start of the 15-year civil war in 1975, Lebanese households
employed local and foreign Arab women as domestic workers. During the oil boom, Lebanese
employers began importing Asian labor, a practice adopted from the Gulf states. This allowed them to
hire workers who were more submissive and who would work for lower wages than Lebanese, Syrian,
and other Arab workers.
Additionally, as a result of heightened political tensions after the civil war, some employers
preferred to hire Asian or African women, who were less likely to cause tension in the household than
local Arab women who may have been from opposing religious or political factions.
7
Migrant Workers
Currently, Lebanon's Central Administration of Statistics (CAS) maintains the only official
record of migrants workers in the country: work permits. According to CAS, 90,000 work
permits were issued to foreigners in 2002 (see Figure 1).
But, according to some foreign embassy records, the number of their nationals is three
times the CAS figure. While Sri Lanka's embassy estimated that around 160,000 of its nationals
resided in Lebanon, only 32,497 reportedly held work permits; the rest, who number between
80,000 and 170,000, may hold expired work permits, be unemployed, or be in the country
without authorization.
The contract-labor work system in Lebanon isolates migrants from both the local
population and from their home country. Employment agencies charge employers in Lebanon
high fees to recruit the migrants. As a result, employers withhold their workers' passports to
ensure they cannot leave.
Indeed, since the fighting began, IOM has reported numerous cases of employers
threatening migrants in order to prevent them from evacuating. Migrant workers without official
identity or travel documents wanting to evacuate have had to go to their home government's
embassy to get the needed documents or transportation to safety.
However, some foreign governments, like that of Vietnam, do not have embassies in
Lebanon. Migrants from those countries have been stranded for long periods without travel
documents. Despite the dangers, many migrant workers have chosen not to leave, according to
reports from aid workers. Their reasons vary from fear of losing their jobs to going home with no
money after years of work to returning to a country where they have no home.
Even governments with embassies in Lebanon Figure 1. Work Permit Holders in
have lacked the capacity to help their nationals because Lebanon by Nationality, 2002
they are understaffed and underfunded. Those with some
of the largest numbers of migrant workers —Sri Lanka,
Bangladesh, Ethiopia, and Ghana — also have the
fewest resources to find and evacuate their nationals.
Yet foreign governments have been willing to
work together, even when their own resources were
limited. For example, India agreed to allow Sri Lankan
workers on their ships evacuating Lebanon, and Jordan
and Syria offered 4,000 jobs to Sri Lankans escaping
Lebanon. Still, neither Syria nor Jordan have clarified
what long-term rights these migrants will be accorded.
Most migrant workers in Lebanon have depended
heavily on the help of international agencies, such as
IOM, UNHCR, and CARITAS, a Catholic relief
organization, which coordinate with embassies in order
to assist stranded migrants. Since July 20, IOM has
evacuated more than 13,000 migrants from Lebanon.
Once in Syria, migrants were placed in shelters, where
they waited until IOM could arrange their flights home.
Following the ceasefire, IOM expected to evacuate at
least 1,000 more third-country nationals provided
adequate funding was available.
Total Number of Work Permits Issued to
Foreign Workers, 2002 = 88,73
Source: Central Administration for Statistics,
Lebanese Republic
According to a representative from IOM, security has been a major concern in its
operations. Convoys carrying over 700 people at one time make a dangerous, three-hour passage
8
from Beirut to the border. Additionally, for migrants to return home, IOM had to coordinate with
countries such as Saudi Arabia to allow charter flights over areas the organization had never
flown over before.
Thus far, foreign governments have supported IOM in its crisis-related efforts. Norway has
provided IOM with tents, family kits, blankets, and other materials worth $640,000. The
European Commission started a fund of 11 million euros to evacuate nationals from developing
countries. This fund makes up more than half of the Commission's total relief budget for
Lebanon. Individual European governments have also made significant contributions.
Refugees in Lebanon
Refugees and asylum seekers in Lebanon make up about 10 percent of the country's total
population. Palestinians make up the majority of refugees, followed by Kurds, Iraqis, and
Sudanese (see Table 1).
Refugees have no official status in Lebanon, as the
country has not signed the 1951 UN Convention relating to
the Status of Refugees. UNHCR, which established an
office in Beirut in the 1980s, keeps a close watch of
refugees and asylum seekers. The United Nations Relief
and Works Agency (UNRWA), in existence since 1949,
operates under a different mandate than UNHCR, and is
responsible solely for Palestinian refugees.
Although refugees came to Lebanon seeking safety
from violence and instability in their home countries, the
fighting has come to them. Lebanon's refugee camps
became home to both refugees and Lebanese civilians in
July. Many camps have been bombarded by Israeli attacks,
including the country's largest Palestinian camp, where at
least two refugees were killed and 15 were injured in
August.
Refugees who tried to flee Lebanon generally faced
long wait times, or even rejection at the Syria-Lebanon
border. Of the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian
refugees, only 1,000 had been allowed into Syria by the
end of July. Most of the stranded refugees held valid
Lebanese-Palestinian documents but were nevertheless
denied by Syrian officials.
Table 1. Number of Refugees in
Lebanon by Country of
Nationality, 2004
UNHCR
Iraq
Sudan
1,
148
31
1
Soma
79
lia
Other
Total
21
5
1,
753
UNRWA
UNRWA found that in the three main refugee camps
in southern Lebanon, only around 2,900 out of 25,000
refugees left their camps. Attempts to supply water,
Palest
39
electricity, and food to refugees still in camps proved inians
9,152
difficult as attacks intensified. Nevertheless, UNRWA
reported that a total of nearly 29,000 displaced people Sources: 2004 UNHCR Statistical
(both Palestinians and Lebanese) received aid. In addition, Yearbook. Available online; UNRWA in
the agency opened numerous shelters in schools in both Figures, 2004
Syria and Lebanon to house Palestinian and Lebanese
refugees.
UNHCR reacted to complaints of rejection at the Syrian border by asking Syria to loosen
border controls for Palestinian refugees. All governments, UNHCR stated, should follow the
principle of nonrejection at their borders during this time of crisis. It asked states not to forcibly
9
return to Lebanon any migrants, including Lebanese citizens, any refugees or stateless persons,
or any third-country national. Despite some setbacks, UNHCR expressed overall satisfaction
with the Syrian government's cooperation in assisting all refugees coming from Lebanon.
The Lebanese Diaspora
During the 1975-1990 civil war, between 600,000 and 900,000 people fled the country.
Since then, internal conflict and invasions from Israel have led to continued emigration. For this
reason, Lebanese nationals living abroad number over one million, or about 25 percent of the
actual number of people in Lebanon.
However, some estimates put the number of people of Lebanese descent around the world
as high as 15 million because of waves of emigration from Lebanon that date back to the late19th century. Current data show that the United States, Australia, Canada, and Brazil are among
the most popular destination countries for Lebanese emigrants and their children.
Past crises in Lebanon have provoked strong reactions from Lebanese communities
worldwide, and the current conflict is no exception. From raising millions of dollars to setting up
relief centers in Lebanon itself, Lebanese groups in the United States and Canada have provided
much-needed aid to their home country.
The Hairi Foundation, a nonprofit organization that promotes training for Lebanese
scholars in the United States and Canada, gained media attention when it launched an emergency
fund for Lebanon to help victims of the war. In Dearborn, Michigan, the Arab Community
Center for Economic and Social Services held fundraising events to raise $200,000 for medical
supplies in Lebanon. A California-based organization, Islamic Relief, raised nearly $1 million by
the first week of August for aid to Lebanon and Palestine.
In addition to raising money, organizations are preparing homes and shelters to house
fleeing Lebanese refugees. Community organizations have been building their capacity to
receive thousands of soon-to-be homeless Lebanese-Canadians. Most of the Lebanese scheduled
to arrive left Canada in the past 10 years to return to Lebanon but maintain dual LebaneseCanadian citizenship.
Since July, protests against Israeli aggression have been a common occurrence in Sao
Paulo, Brazil. Before a ceasefire agreement was reach in mid-August, Brazilian government
officials had called for an end to the fighting. In an appeal to UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan,
Brazil's President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva emphasized that the Lebanese-Brazilian connection
makes Brazil feel "directly affected by the violence against civilians in the region."
Conclusion
Many migrants and refugees in Lebanon have been trapped between a host country where
they face danger and a home country to which they are hesitant or may not be able to return. For
Lebanese, the return home is uncertain and dangerous, as the ceasefire agreement remains shaky.
In the coming months, IOM plans to assist displaced Lebanese families as well as migrants, a
number of which still want to return home. With its funds already running low, however, IOM
will require an additional $26 million for future operations.
The immediacy of the conflict in Lebanon makes it difficult to predict its lasting effects on
vulnerable populations. Whatever the outcome, the impact of Lebanon's crisis on migrants and
refugees will have implications for the entire Middle East.
10